


That Room is Not the Place You Are Now (You are Safe)

by ashleecraft



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Carlos is a Good Boyfriend, Cecil Palmer has BPD, Cecil Palmer has PTSD, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Flashbacks, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Violence, Night Vale, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Trauma, wtnv - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24014026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleecraft/pseuds/ashleecraft
Summary: Cecil has a PTSD flashback from something traumatic that happened to him as a child, & Carlos is there to comfort him. Hurt/comfort.
Relationships: Carlos & Cecil Palmer, Carlos/Cecil Palmer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 74





	That Room is Not the Place You Are Now (You are Safe)

**Author's Note:**

> TW:  
> This story is a lot less dark than fics I've previously written haha, but there still are a few things I'd like to mention:  
> (1) A lot of the story describes a PTSD flashback (including the panic-related physical symptoms, dissociation/derealization/depersonalization, & the utter fear) in a detailed way. This is based on my own personal experiences with flashbacks tbh-  
> (2) The trauma in question relates to violence/threat of violence. It involves a childhood home invasion by an estranged family member of Cecil's who's been terrorizing his family, & said family member threatens & acts as though he's going to kill him & also threatens his family, while his family is helpless & terrified, unable to help him. There's no graphic violence, but just wanted to list those in case they're triggering for anyone :)  
> (3) Cecil experiences some brief feelings of self-loathing in regards to the event/his mental health afterwards.
> 
> Pretty sure that's everything!

_The man –_

_No –_

Just like that, the fear gripped him, the same way it so frequently did at night when he was longing to fall asleep. He'd been lying there, breathing evenly, and fondly remembering scattered moments from the date he'd gone on with Carlos the day prior, when something inside him seemed to hitch, and moments later, he found himself trapped and suffocating.

_It's just a memor –_

But it was too late; it was nearly impossible to stop once it began. It was as though he blinked, and he wasn't lying safely in his bed with Carlos just a room away. He wasn't in the safe warm of his familiar house.

No. He was back there –

Back there in _that room –_

_No, not this –_

His heart was a jackhammer in his chest. Tears filled his eyes and when he blinked, they rolled down his cheeks in pathetic, desperate streaks. Cold sweat leaked through his skin like a plant growing in fast-forward. Horrible, retched sweat –

“ _Hello, Cecil.”_

He flung himself forward, curling up into a ball onto himself. Fragmented memories flashed through his mind –

The man, threatening his mom and his brother. Outside of his house that one night –

Cecil pressed his face hard into the soft blankets. He wrapped his arms over his head. He sobbed with fear, shaking his head back and forth and blinking his eyes as hard as he could as if by doing so, he could make the memory _go away –_

_Please make it stop please make it stop –_

_This isn't real, Cecil –_

“ _Hello, Cecil.”_

He knotted his hands in the blankets. Dizziness pinged inside his head, like hideous alarm bells. He felt as though he were falling. He couldn't breathe; he gasped for air.

But it wasn't enough. It was never possible for it to be enough.

His skin tingled and yet at the same time, he felt as though he himself were a fragmented reality. His body felt surreal. The world around him made him feel like he was in a dream. A terrible dream; a nightmare. Was he where he'd thought he was moments ago, or was he back in that room?

In his mind, the memory played with a startling vividity that his mind shouldn't have been capable of replicating. It always did, and it was always the same. The fear and helplessness washed over him, sickening and overwhelming. His whole body convulsed, tears pouring from his eyes and soaking the blanket beneath his face.

“Please....please don't hurt me.” He pleaded, his voice cracking as he sobbed out loud into the blanket.

He was back in the room. He was nine years old again. He was the same boy that had been in that room. In that room with the man and his knife. The man and his horrible knife. His uncle –

_Cecil, this isn't real –_

_I have to snap out of this –_

He sat up, sobbing and rubbing his arms, trying to get his mind to believe that he was safe, that he was in _his_ room and not _that_ room. But the memory kept playing, petrifying and unrelenting. He collapsed back onto himself, another wave of tears pouring from his eyes as he sobbed even harder, trapped once again in a nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

“ _Please don't hurt me.....oh, please.....please don't – not that – please put the knife down –“_

The sense of helplessness he felt overwhelmed him completely. He was the same pathetic boy, the same pathetic small boy who could do nothing to stop the danger he found himself in.

Cecil could see every detail of the room, the dark blackness that had filled it once the lights had gone out. He could smell the sickening smell that had filled that room. And he could see the dark shadow of the man in the corner. A man who he knew the identity of too well.

“ _Please don't hurt me – please, please leave me alone – get out of here – you already got what you wanted – I don't want to die – please, please don't hurt me –“_ He sobbed brokenly out loud to the image of the man playing inside his head. But it wasn't him who said these things, it was his nine-year-old self. Helpless, vulnerable, and terrified.

The man moved closer to him, knife outstretched, muttering and cursing at Cecil. Cecil felt his body shrink back against the wall, felt the dirt on the floor under his hands as he pressed himself as hard as he could against the wall, praying he would disappear. He saw himself from outside himself, the look of pure terror that twisted his young face, see the ugly, fat tears that drained from his eyes and into his screaming mouth. He could hear his own horrible scream, and in the background, he could hear the screams of his mother and brother as well, pleading for his safety –

_Please don't –_

“Cecil? Cecil?” Came a soft, distant voice. _A familiar voice. A safe voice._

Cecil sobbed hard into the blankets, watching the man loom closer, fingering the knife, saying terrible things about how he was going to use the knife to hurt him –

“You are _safe_ , Cecil. You are safe...”

The image of the man began to slowly fade away into the inky backdrop as though the volume on the radio had been turned down. Cecil's body still felt distant and surreal, but he did not feel like the terrified boy anymore; he was just his own terrified self.

“Cecil, I am here. It's me, it's Carlos. I am here with you...”

Like a gradient fading from dark to light, the safe reality of that which surrounded him came closer into focus, as though someone had turned the radio antenna in the correct direction once more, and the words could be heard clearly again.

“You are not in that room. Cecil. You are in your house and you are safe. You're safe, Cecil. It's okay.”

In that instant, Cecil could fully feel the blankets beneath him, and the weight of Carlos sitting on the bed next to him, not touching him but _beside him_. He felt how wet the blankets were beneath his face, and how vulnerable and small his body felt. He could smell his own horrid sweat, but he could also smell the familiar smell of his bedroom and of Carlos. _Carlos._ As the memory faded, he felt as though he was waking up, or coming to from having been unconscious as the world around him suddenly became real again, although the sense of both his body and the world being an illusion lingered.

He slowly sat up, wiping away his tears and saliva with the palms of his hands.

“I'm so sorry.” He sobbed. Deep embarrassment and frustration at himself that this – this _breaking down –_ had happened once again flooded his body.

He realized how badly he was trembling. He blinked away tears and saw Carlos sitting on the edge of the bed, face full of both concern and of the radiant, nurturing love that Cecil so loved him for.

“You're perfectly fine; _I love you and I want you to feel safe_.” Carlos stated.

“Carlos –“ Cecil whimpered, and he collapsed onto him, wrapping his arms around Carlos and burying his face in his shoulder, clinging to him as though Carlos were the only thing in the world that could save him. The safest thing.

Carlos wrapped his arms around Cecil in response, pulling him tight against him with one arm in a gesture filled with conviction and protectiveness. With the other hand, he ran his fingers comfortingly through the hair on the back of Cecil's head as the radio host trembled and cried, so very different from the unshakeable calm he emitted on air.

Cecil knew the embrace would leave an aftertaste of Carlos' rightful hatred towards the man who'd terrorized Cecil, an aftertaste which would make him feel less ashamed of both what had happened, and the fact that it still bothered him. Carlos had always been _so damn supportive_ of anything relating to Cecil's mental health, even when Cecil was convinced his symptoms made him a burden to others –

He loved him. He loved Carlos _so much_.

The world slowly began to feel real to Cecil again. He felt as though he were thawing, and the more he thawed, the more he could feel the safety and warmth of Carlos' embrace as Carlos murmured soothing things into Cecil's hair. Carlos held him as his crying and trembling stilled, and he gradually relaxed into the scientist's arms.

“Shhhh....Cecil, let's get you cozy and warm in your blankets. You look exhausted, and I don't blame you the least for that.”

“...I don't want to go to sleep.” Cecil said, starting to sound choked up again. “What if – what if there are...nightmares?”

“If there are, you won't have to face them alone. I'm going to be right beside you the entire night...We can get through them together.”

Carlos pulled the top blanket off Cecil's bed.

“This is really wet; lemme change this out really fast. Your extra blankets are in the hall closet, right?”

Cecil nodded.

Carlos got up, and Cecil heard the sound of his bare feet padding across the wood floor and out into the hallway. Carlos returned, moments later, holding a very soft blanket. He sat down on the bed next to Cecil and took a second to caress the radio host's cheek with the back of his hand before wrapping the blanket around Cecil's shoulders and bundling him tight in it.

“Hang on just a sec.” Carlos said, and disappeared back out into the hallway. A few minutes later, he was back with a box of tissues and a glass of water.

Carlos said quietly,

“Thought you might need these.”

“Thank you.” Cecil said, sounding somehow sad and anxious and happy all at the same time.

“I know you'd do the same for me if I needed it.” Carlos said softly, blushing and looking away.

Cecil nodded, and he wiped his face dry with the tissues and drank the glass of water. Carlos set the empty glass on the wooden bedside table, then he smoothed Cecil's hair back with one hand and ran his hand gently down his face to cup his chin.

“Cecil...I know what your thought process is like when you feel like this. So I just wanted to take a second to remind you that no matter how 'messed up' you might feel, that you have never been a burden to me in any way, and that helping you get through these things does not make me want to leave you, not in the least.” Carlos kissed Cecil gently on the lips. “I love you just as much when you're breaking down as I do when you're enthusiastic and playful, and helping you through these things that you feel – which are all very valid things to feel, I must add – is just as much a part of loving you for who you are as anything else about you is, and so I am very happy to do it as often as need be.”

With that, he pulled Cecil's face gently towards him and pressed his lips against Cecil's forehead. Cecil let out a whimper, and Carlos hugged him tightly.

“I love you, Cecil. I love you so, _so_ much.”

“I love you too, Carlos. So much –” Cecil buried his face in Carlos' neck.

They pulled back and smiled at each other for a moment, then Cecil lied down with his blanket around his shoulders, and Carlos curled up right behind him, spooning him.

“Thank you, Carlos.” Cecil took Carlos hand in his and tenderly kissed his knuckles.

While the terror he'd felt just an hour ago was still fresh in his mind, it was dimmer, and he felt a little braver in facing it, reassured that he did not have to face any of this alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I adore WTNV so much, I especially love Cecil & Carlos & their interactions...& I love writing queer & mental health-related things, so definitely gonna be writing more WTNV fics including some stories that take place before/after this one :)


End file.
